


Tripwire

by achillese



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Language, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillese/pseuds/achillese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The apocalypse rolls on as planned, with no Dean Winchester to interrupt, and Lucifer wins. As a result, humans are rounded up into camps and used for food and entertainment by the now-dominant monster and demon species. Adam Milligan, once the vessel for the archangel Michael (who is now presumed dead by the world at large) works as a bartender earning his keep, but his life is once again turned upside down by the appearance of Castiel. The angel asks Adam to look after none other than a weakened Michael and keep him safe from the demons who might want to kill him. Now Adam has to decide if Michael's really worth protecting, and if he is, what that means for both their futures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN J2 Big Bang 2013. Beautiful artwork by [sophiap](http://sophiap.livejournal.com) on LiveJournal. Full art masterpost is [here](http://sophiap.livejournal.com/249030.html). Many thanks to [samanddeandriel](http://samanddeandriel.tumblr.com) for the beta work!
> 
> Fanmix on 8tracks is located [here](http://8tracks.com/amaltheias/tripwire) for your listening pleasure.

Port is wine, and port is left, and port is a safe haven in a storm, and it was this, this last definition of port, which Adam was most concerned with. For all intents and purposes, every possible port of his was gone, ripped out from under him while he wasn’t looking. He should’ve been looking. He should’ve been more careful.

He _should’ve_ been paying attention to what he was doing to avoid dropping the glass in his hand on the bar floor, shattering it instantly. 

“Oi!” one of the bar patrons snapped at him. “That was my beer!”

Adam dropped to his knees without acknowledging the patron and pulled out a damp, dirty rag he kept in his back pocket to start wiping the broken glass off the floor. Behind him he heard a chair scrape along the wooden floor and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up but still he refused to turn and look. 

“I _said_ – that was my beer,” the same patron repeated with more forcefulness. 

“Sorry,” Adam finally murmured. “I’ll get you another one.” He continued to wipe the floor clean. 

There was silence – the other few bar patrons had all eyes on Adam and whoever was towering behind him – before Adam felt a strong hand grab him by the scruff of his shirt and haul him to his feet. Adam let himself go limp; he’d learned long ago not to struggle. 

“Maybe I don’t want another one,” the man said as he dropped Adam on his feet and turned the boy to finally face him, a pale-skinned older man with his brown hair slicked backwards. “ _Maybe_ I want a different drink now.” He looked pointedly at Adam’s arm, exposed with his shirtsleeves rolled back over his elbows. 

Adam held his arm up without question, and the man sunk his teeth in.

\---

Six months ago the world had been different – and by different, of course, that meant ‘the same.’ Humans were the norm, and the monsters kept to the shadows, hidden away and crawling belly to the ground in order to survive in a world where they were constantly hunted down.

And then the apocalypse took place at Stull Cemetery, and the world as we once knew it was turned on its proverbial head. 

Simply put: Dean had been late. There was no other way to explain it, or excuse it, or wave it away. When push came to shove, the one thing everyone in the know could agree on was that maybe, just maybe, if Dean had reached the cemetery on time, the world would not have been overrun by the things that hid in the shadows. There would still be monsters, yes, but they’d only exist in nightmares. They wouldn’t be wandering the streets and breaking into peoples’ homes to devour them in their sleep. 

And yet, that’s the way the world was transformed after what happened in Stull Cemetery.

Lucifer won, and the world broke.

\---

Adam sat on a stool in the back room by himself, a wet dish towel pressed against the wound in his inner arm as he tried to stop the blood flow. His teeth were clenched tightly together but he wasn’t in any pain – he was just trying to keep himself from crying. He could handle a lot of the abuse thrown at him from working in the bar here, but one thing he’d never get used to was offering himself up as a personalized drink for the bloodthirsty. Vampires were the worst customers in that regard.

The door to the back room opened and Adam’s head whipped around, half terrified that the man was following him for more, but it was only Carmel, the barmaid. By social norm, she was the walking poster advertisement of a barmaid: tall and lean, with lips perpetually coated in pink lip-gloss – _where does she get all her lip-gloss?_ – and yet, she looked far more sinister than most would expect. Her hair was dyed orange, the color of fire, and was always pulled into a tight ponytail that sharpened the already defined lines of her face. Carmel liked using her looks to her advantage – though a barmaid, most men who came here would never dare think of making a wrong move on her. She looked positively deadly, even with one of her patented fake smiles plastered across her face. 

She wasn’t smiling now as she approached Adam and surveyed him, eyes zeroing in on the dishtowel blossoming with the color red. “You okay, kiddo?” She was only three years older than Adam but she always called him ‘kiddo’ or ‘runt’, her terms of endearment. 

He nodded, still intent on not crying. Carmel watched him with her arms folded across her chest. 

“I would say it gets better, but you’ve been here for five months already. You know it doesn’t,” she said matter-of-factly. 

“Does it get tolerable?” Adam finally asked. His hand tightened on the dish towel, putting more pressure on his still-bleeding wound. 

Carmel sighed and reached out to move Adam’s hand away from the towel so she could hold his arm for him. She pressed down a little harder than what Adam was used to and he winced. 

“It just becomes part of the job,” she answered. “Vamps walk in thirsty and leave satisfied. Whether it’s alcohol or blood they want, that’s up to them, but you’ve got to provide no matter what, or face the consequences.”

Adam didn’t reply. Carmel kept firm pressure on the puncture marks left behind by the vampire’s fangs, her eyes flicking back and forth between the towel and Adam’s face as though trying to read his blank expression, but to no avail. 

“Nobody likes it, kid,” she continued, “but there’s not much we can do about it. We’re at the bottom of the totem pole now and we just gotta make the best with what we’ve got.”

Again, Adam didn’t reply.

Carmel sighed. “I have to go back. More customers to take care of. You take the rest of the day off, okay? No arguing,” she added quickly as Adam opened his mouth to protest. “I know you’re a fan of the big tough guy exterior but you had it rough today. Take it easy, go upstairs, unwind...take a beer with you, for God’s sake.”

“It’s not a big deal, seriously. Just give me a minute and I can be back out there working behind the counter.”

Adam’s dissent was cut short when the door opened again and a black-haired man, another one of Adam’s coworkers named Grant, poked his head around the corner. 

“Damnit, Milligan, just take the fuckin’ day off,” Grant demanded, not unkindly. He held out a beer and Carmel left Adam’s side to take it from him. 

Adam didn’t take the beer when Carmel tried handing it off to him. “Is he still out there?” he asked Grant.

Grant shook his head. “Nah, he took off when he finished with you. But that doesn’t mean you get to come back out. I’m serious, man, just relax.”

Adam knew Grant and Carmel meant well, and so he relented, carrying his beer and his weak body up the rickety flight of stairs in the backroom that led to the second floor, where all their rooms were located. 

Adam wasted no time in collapsing onto his threadbare mattress, covered only with a thin blanket and a pillow. There was no bed in the traditional sense – just a mattress on the wooden floor, pushed up against the wall under a window. He had the room to himself – Carmel and Grant slept in other rooms – but that wasn’t saying much, considering how tiny it was. There wasn’t even room for a dresser or a closet: all of Adam’s clothes, what little there were, were folded into two separate piles on the floor.

It was meager living, but it as living, and that was far better than the alternative...or at least that’s what Adam tried to tell himself. He wouldn’t mind dying and going back to his own personal heaven, but nobody was sure anymore where you went when you died. Lucifer had won. Maybe Heaven was cut off. Maybe it didn’t exist anymore. Maybe it was a living graveyard, a cemetery in the sky. 

Nobody knew where the angels were nowadays. They’d stopped showing up to try and turn the tide of events or save the human race. Adam didn’t personally think Lucifer had killed them off, what with his love for his brothers, but there was something suspicious about the fact that he hadn’t heard a peep from heaven’s army, not even Castiel, which only slightly worried him. He didn’t have the warmest of feelings for the angel who’d failed to save him in the nick of time, but the lack of contact was noticeable. Or maybe Adam was just not good at recognizing when all had been lost.

He didn’t even want to think about what was happening to Sam and Dean, locked away somewhere deep in the compound, close to Lucifer. Not to say that they were being tortured – quite the opposite, actually, from what Adam had heard through the grapevine. But being Lucifer’s pets had to be almost worse than being his prisoners. 

Almost.

\---

This was Adam’s life now, working at the bar (aptly titled The Bleeding Heart) with Carmel and Grant. They lived praising each passing day as a blessing, a favor from whatever god existed that they were still alive. Sure, they occasionally had to play human blood bag for a vampire walking through, or get shoved around by demons with nothing better to do, but they were alive.

That didn’t stop Adam from wanting something more. He _wanted_ to help, to possibly join the little pockets of human resistance that he’d heard rumors of, but those rumors were almost always followed by news that they’d been discovered and “made examples of.” Carmel never told Adam what that meant, but once he overheard her and Grant talking about the bodies dangling over the bridge on the other side of town, making food for the birds. 

Resisting from outside the compound wouldn’t work, but that didn’t stop Adam from trying to figure out ways to resist from within...not that he ever went through with it much anymore. Once he’d tried spiking a vampire’s drink with dead man’s blood and had gotten such a severe beating from said vampire’s mate that he decided not to try again.

It was hard trying to fight back, and for all intents and purposes Adam was ready to give up. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t. He was just Adam, just a human boy forced into servitude at the feet of the monsters in the compound with them. 

The compound. This hell on earth for humans in this part of the country, this place of proverbial fire and brimstone that served as a place of suffering for many. There were several scattered across the country, but this one in Kansas was called the Grove. Humans and monsters were meant to ‘coexist’ within the Grove’s spacious walls, and by ‘coexist’ of course that meant humans had to bow to monsters’ every whim, hence the bar serving both beer and blood to whoever walked in. 

There were other places of recreation in the Grove, not just The Bleeding Heart. Several restaurants were forced to serve human meat to satisfy those species that dined on such delicacy. There was a ‘school’ that really just served as a camp for human children ages eight through sixteen, their meat riper for the picking as they served as a human buffet. There was even a strip club: monsters have needs too, apparently.

It was a sick, perverted way of living, but it was their only way to live. Either submit to the laws of the compound, or be made an example of by Lucifer and his demons. 

Sometimes, Adam considered death as a viable option. 

Sometimes he just wanted to give in.


	2. Chapter 2

A week after the latest vampire incident with Adam, there was a commotion outside the bar’s double doors. Adam was behind the counter wiping it down with a wet dishrag; it was almost closing time and he was grateful for it, the end of a long day. Of course that had to be spoiled by two apparent thugs trying to duke it out on the front porch of The Bleeding Heart. 

Adam stayed rooted where he was. With his lithe frame and frailty, he was in no position to be breaking up a bar brawl, but luckily Grant was swooping out of the backroom and storming for the front door, a knife sheathed in his boot. Adam could hear him muttering, “Damn drunkards...didn’t think monsters could get drunk...” as he passed by the counter and he had to bite back a small grin. 

He went back to cleaning off the countertop, humming an old song to himself, when the double doors burst open again and Grant tumbled in, one arm hooked around the elbow of a dark-haired man in a trench coat. There was blood from his nose running down the man’s mouth and chin and his blue eyes looked unfocused, no doubt casualties from the fight he’d just been in, but it took all of Adam’s self control not to stumble back in shock into the row of bottles behind him.

“It can’t be,” he breathed, stumbling out from behind the counter, dishrag still clutched tightly in his fist. “There’s no way that...Castiel?”

The man’s head snapped in Adam’s direction as Grant heaved him into a seat at one of the tables, his eyebrows furrowed in concern for the blue-eyed stranger. There was no mistaking those eyes, or that face. 

Adam stood dumbstruck in front of the angel, not sure what to do. He was torn between hugging him or punching him, two reflex actions that Adam had embraced over the months of working at the bar. And yet, seemingly without thinking, Adam started to hand the damp dishtowel to Castiel, so he could clean up the blood on his face, when Adam recoiled upon realizing the full implications of what it meant that Castiel was here. But what _did_ it mean? That heaven was intact? That the angels were coming to the rescue? 

Grant seemed equally puzzled, though that might have to do more with the fact that Adam had recognized Castiel out of nowhere. 

“Castiel, what the hell are you doing here?” Adam asked, but before the angel could answer Adam turned to Grant. “Why’s he bleeding?”

“He got into a scuffle with one of the patrons leaving. A demon,” Grant supplied. “Who is he?”

“He’s—”

At that moment Castiel suddenly lurched forward and grabbed Adam’s wrist, startling both him and Grant. His grip was iron-tight, palm sweaty, and there was a kind of desperation in his action that Adam saw reflected in his eyes. 

At long last, Castiel spoke: “Keep him hidden.” His voice was strained and rough, as though this were the first time he was speaking in weeks. A bit of spittle flew from his lips, colored red with blood that dripped from his nose into his mouth. “He has...to stay hidden...”

Adam’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Castiel blinked some of the pain out of his eyes. “I brought him here...your room...” 

He trailed off to cough violently and Adam surged forward with the dish towel, covering his mouth gently so he didn’t get blood on the tabletop. His mind was whirling. Someone was in his room? Now? 

When Castiel stopped coughing, Adam said to Grant, “Take care of him for a sec and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. I need to check on something.”

With that said he turned on his heel and sped off for the backroom, bypassing a confused-looking Carmel who was sitting on the floor counting the day’s profits with a notepad in her lap and a pencil stuck behind her ear. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, heart pounding, not even sure what he would find in his room when he opened the door. Castiel mentioned a he – would it be one of his brothers in need of a hiding spot? It wasn’t as if Adam would be able to shelter either of them; if Lucifer knew they were missing, the first place he would look would be their own brother’s place. 

Nothing could’ve prepared Adam for what he found instead when he threw his bedroom door open. A complete stranger was sprawled out on his bed, limbs akimbo, and face to the ceiling with his eyes closed. His dark hair was a sweaty matted mess and his clothes – a simple pair of jeans and a grey tee – were dirty and torn in different places. He wore no shoes or socks, and it took all of Adam’s self control not to yell at the guy to get out of his room. Whoever he was, this was whom Castiel had been talking about. _He has to stay hidden._ But who was he?

Adam approached cautiously, aware of the squeaky floorboards under his feet, and tried to peer over the guy’s face. He was handsome; there was no denying that, and fairly young – probably in his late twenties or early thirties at the most. 

Adam stared down at the stranger for a second or two longer before deciding he should probably wake him up and ask what the hell he was doing in Adam’s bed.

“...Hey,” Adam finally said, trying to sound authoritative. “You alive?”

The man made no reply or showed any sign that he’d heard Adam at all, so Adam kicked the mattress once, just a tap at first, before he kicked even harder and jostled the man into jolting up in a sitting position, green eyes blown wide. Adam stumbled back. 

“Sorry,” he gasped, startled by the sudden movement. “I was trying to...” He trailed off helplessly before punctuating his sentence with a halfhearted shrug. “You okay?”

The man hadn’t taken his eyes off of Adam yet and was still staring at him as though he’d never seen another human being before. There was a reverence in his face that bordered on joy and relief, but Adam for the life of him couldn’t figure out why. The stranger’s green eyes were practically welling with tears. 

“Um...” Adam had no idea what to do in the silence. “Castiel brought you here, right?” Sad excuse for a reason to talk, but he just didn’t want to see this man cry. “You know him?”

“Adam.” The man finally spoke and his voice was hoarse, raspy, weak. He said Adam’s name like a forbidden prayer and kept looking at him as though he were a sacred object. “You’re alive.”

Adam had no idea what to say to that. “...Yeah, as alive as I’ll ever be. How d’you even know me?”

The man didn’t hesitate to respond. “It’s me. It’s Michael.”

Adam reeled away from the mattress, staring down wide-eyed at the man on it, the man who said he was Michael.

“You can’t be,” Adam denied at long last, shaking his head slightly. “You just...you can’t be him.”

The man frowned. “Why can’t I be?”

“Because Michael’s dead.”

The frown remained in place, and the man actually looked distraught. “Who told you that?” he asked quietly.

Adam shrugged one shoulder. “Nobody had to tell me. I was there.” ‘There’ of course meaning so much more than just being a bystander. “I watched him...I felt him just...” Adam stopped himself from continuing.

He’d never talked about this before, never brought up Michael’s name in conversation with Carmel and Grant. In fact, his two coworkers had no idea who Adam even was, or where he’d come from before the Uprising of the supernatural. They had no idea that Adam had been the vessel for Michael, Prince of Heaven, archangel in all his self righteous and fiery glory, and that Adam had been present, trapped in his own body, as he felt Lucifer’s icy fire scorch his skin and drive Michael from his body with such power and pain that Adam had been shocked he himself hadn’t been killed instantly. Instead, Michael’s grace had taken the brunt of the fight, leaving Adam’s body and soul relatively unscathed. But that was that. Lucifer had killed Michael. That was Adam’s truth. 

The man interrupted Adam’s confused train of thought. “You’re Adam Milligan.” It wasn’t a question, but a sure statement of fact. “You were born on September 29, 1990. Two years ago, you were my vessel and were present for the apocalyptic battle between myself and my brother in Stull Cemetery, Kansas.” He rotated his body on the mattress so he was fully facing Adam now. “I’m not dead, Adam. Not yet, anyway. But I would be, if not for Castiel.” He got off the mattress at last, pulling himself to his feet slowly while Adam took a couple steps back, on the defense. “I understand that you’d be skeptic of my claim, but I promise you that it’s me. Castiel would not have hidden me away, kept me safe, and brought me here if I weren’t who I say I am.”

At least, the man was standing, only barely taller than Adam himself, all broad shoulders and radiating an energy that Adam could inexplicably feel within himself. His green eyes were kind, searching Adam’s face for some friendly recognition, some sign that Adam accepted his claim as truth, but Adam was still trying to process everything. He didn’t want to believe this stranger, but all the evidence was staring him in the face – and he had a point. Castiel wouldn’t be so foolish as to risk exposure by bringing a fraud Michael to Adam’s room. 

For two years Adam had believed Michael to be dead, and now he was here, standing in Adam’s scant bedroom with a stupid relieved smile on his face as though he expected Adam to just welcome him back with open arms.

Finally, Adam replied, “You were hiding for two years and you couldn’t think to maybe drop a goddamn hint that you weren’t _dead?_ No, don’t give me that look,” Adam snapped when he saw the genuine confusion cloud Michael’s face. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t do anything wrong. I spent two years thinking Lucifer killed you. The whole _world_ did. So where the fuck have you been where you couldn’t be bothered to check in with someone and let them know hey, don’t give up hope, God’s little warrior is still up and kicking?”

“You really expect me to announce to the world that I’m still alive? Especially with the way it is now, with demons and monsters around every corner just waiting to tear angels apart?”

Adam sucked in a small breath. He’d always wondered where the angels were, but now he knew. “So...so that’s where they’ve gone? They’re...being killed off?”

“One by one.” There was no hesitation. “They’re being felled like birds. I...I knew that if I just dove out there headfirst, they’d catch me and kill me too.” Michael – Adam was finally accepting him as Michael – looked down at his hands, frown lines creasing his otherwise smooth features. “I was weak when I was kicked out of your body, barely even existing in this universe anymore without being catapulted back to heaven. I had to crawl around and find the next best vessel I could find before I just faded away.”

“So who’s this poor bastard you’re wearing now?” Adam asked, indicating the man in front of him.

Michael ran one hand down the back of his neck. “His name’s Matt. He was a coma patient. Dead for all of five seconds before I found him.”

“So he’s not inside there anymore?”

“No. Matt’s moved on.”

“Oh. Well...good. Wouldn’t want anyone else watching as he becomes an angel condom, too.”

“You agreed to it, Adam.”

“Under different circumstances.”

Michael sighed and finally looked up at him again. “I don’t want to argue with you right now, okay? Please? I just...” He trailed off with a defeated sigh. “I need a new place to hide.”

“Yeah, Cas mentioned that,” Adam said. “Why a new place?”

“We think a score of demons might’ve found our old hiding spot. Castiel thought it was best to be safe and move elsewhere for the time being. Nobody would suspect that two angels willingly snuck _into_ the Grove.”

“Cas isn’t staying here too, is he? There’s barely any room or space for you, let alone him too.”

“No, he has his own hideout. It would just be me.” Michael’s eyes seemed brighter than before. “Please, Adam. I realize it’s a lot, asking you to take me in and risk your life yet again for me, but if I had anywhere else to go or anyone else to turn to, believe me, I’d be there instead of here, asking for even more from you.” Adam was startled when Michael reached out and took his hand. “You’ve given up so much already, but this is the last time I’ll ask of something from you, I promise.”

Adam’s instinct was to pull his hand out of Michael’s grip but he allowed the archangel to clutch onto him for a moment longer. For once, Michael was at Adam’s mercy, and Adam would be a filthy liar if he said it didn’t feel good this way. Still, he wasn’t about to dangle his help over Michael’s head, so he wrenched his hand away none too gently and said, “Fine, I’ll ask if you can stay. I’m the one who has to find a way to explain this to Carmel and Grant, so if you wanna just...find a corner to curl up in or something while I’m gone, feel free.”

Michael looked affronted at the suggestion of curling up in a corner but Adam was already turning for the doorway. 

“Adam, wait.” 

He waited, one hand on the doorframe, shoulders squared as though he expected Michael to hit him. 

A second passed before Michael continued. “Thank you for doing this. And for what you did two years ago. I never told you what it meant to me.”

Adam swallowed hard, a lump building in his throat. “And you never asked what it meant for me,” he said bluntly before disappearing around the corner and leaving Michael to un-puzzle what he meant.

\---

It was around four in the morning when Adam finally finished filling in Carmel and Grant on the details of what he’d been hiding about his life for the past two years, starting from the genesis of it all with the moment he and his mom had been killed and eaten by ghouls in Minnesota. It took a good amount of time and an even larger amount of alcohol (on everyone’s part, including Adam’s), but finally the whole story had been laid bare. Adam hadn’t described the actual fight in Stull Cemetery – much of it, in fact, had been so quick and violent that he’d blocked it from memory completely – but Carmel and Grant seemed to understand the gist of it. In any case, he doubted they wanted to pry any further into Adam’s obviously traumatic history, and in fact Carmel had one hand over her mouth as he finished his story and Grant looked slightly green. 

“So that’s why Cas showed up earlier,” Adam concluded. “He needs me to take care of Michael for awhile.”

“An archangel under our roof? Do you realize how dangerous that could be for all of us?” Grant asked, his voice low, as though he already suspected they were being spied on. “If we get caught harboring an archangel –”

“We can’t turn him in!” Carmel interrupted. “For God’s sake, Grant, you want to be the one to hand over the last living archangel to Lucifer? You want to give away our last chance for a better world?”

Grant looked affronted. “We have to be realistic about this. You know what they do to humans who go against the laws of the Grove. You saw those bodies hanging from the bridge –”

Carmel hissed a little at the memory and turned her face from Grant. Adam sat there on the floor, back against the wall as he tried to weigh who would have the final word on Michael’s fate. He himself had no idea how he felt about the archangel hiding here. On the one hand, Adam wanted nothing more than to see Michael’s feathers ripped off one by one, or at least covered in a heavy layer of tar. On the other hand, Michael was coming to _him_ , Adam, the last person on earth who’d be excited to see him, for help. That had to mean something, right? And who was Adam to refuse to help someone who’d swallowed his pride and crawled to the doorstep of a human? 

“I think we should help,” Adam finally interjected. “He and Cas took a big risk coming here in the first place. We’d be such assholes if we just kicked Michael out now or turned him in.”

The look on Carmel’s face when she turned to Grant was pure smugness.

\---

“You can definitely stay,” Adam said when he opened his bedroom door. “Stay, get better, whatever you need. Carmel and Grant gave the okay. We have extra mattresses that we can set up in here since we don’t exactly have rooms to spare...”

Michael looked up at Adam in the doorway, eyes full of relief when he heard the news that he could stay. “Adam, thank you so—”

“There’s conditions though,” Adam interrupted. “Nothing major, but just a couple...things we need to establish so nobody thinks it’s suspicious that you’re living here all of a sudden.”

The archangel nodded and crossed his legs together pretzel-style on the mattress. “Such as?”

Adam leaned against the doorframe. “Anyone asks, you’re Grant’s cousin, newly captured and sentenced to work with us. You two look enough alike where you’ll pass as relatives just fine.”

“Does this mean I actually have to work here?”

“Yeah. That’s the second thing: you gotta help out, which means you’re gonna be in public as far as the bar’s concerned. Can monsters tell you’re an archangel just by looking at you or something? How does that work?”

Michael shook his head. “No. They won’t be able to tell...especially because of my weakened state.”

“What if they touch you? Couldn’t they like...I dunno, sense something’s off about you?”

“It still wouldn’t be an issue. I’m...” Michael sighed. “I’m not what I once was, Adam. I’m toeing the line of humanity as it is. My grace isn’t nearly strong enough for even the most powerful demon to notice.”

Adam tried to hide the look of concern on his face. It wasn’t for Michael himself that he was worried, but for the rest of humanity. If Michael was the last archangel standing, and he was fading fast, what did that mean for humankind’s survival? 

At long last Adam replied tersely, “Well...maybe if you get enough rest you’ll, I dunno, level up or something. Like in a videogame,” he added when he read the blank look on Michael’s face. “Never mind. Just...it’s late. I’ve gotta get some sleep before work.”

He turned on his heel and ducked back into the hallway where he’d left an extra mattress that he now dragged into the small confines of his bedroom. With an annoyed look of realization on his face Adam quickly realized that the room wasn’t exactly big enough to separate the two mattresses, so they’d have no choice but to either share one or just push the two together, essentially making one large bed on the floor for both of them. 

Adam went with the second option, pushing the extra mattress right up against the one Michael was sitting on. Extra blankets and a pillow were already in place on top of it, so Adam wasted no time in flicking the lights off and throwing himself down on his new mattress, face planting right into the pillow. 

“G’night,” Adam said, voice muffled by cotton. 

He heard Michael shuffling around, presumably positioning himself on his own mattress to try and sleep, but he didn’t hear a verbal response, so he soon drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Adam awoke the next morning to the sunlight warming his face, he knew he was late for work downstairs, but instead of shooting up in bed and rushing to get ready, he just continued to lie there, face turned to the window and arms shoved under the pillows. Part of him hoped that when he opened his eyes, Michael wouldn’t be there and that last night would’ve just been some strange dream, but he could hear the archangel’s steady breathing next to him. 

The sounds of the bar floated up the stairs and Adam finally found the energy to push himself up from the mattress and stretch, arms held up over his head as he bent backward slightly and heard the cricks in his spine cracking. He yawned and stood up slowly, rubbing one bleary eye awake as he looked down at Michael. They’d both just slept in their normal clothes, not even bothering with pajamas, and from the looks of things they’d at least managed not to accidentally roll into each other’s mattresses and invade each other’s personal space. 

Good.

Michael was curled in a fetal position though, and Adam frowned. He hadn’t even bothered crawling under the thin blankets. A part of Adam wanted to pick them up and cover Michael’s body with them – maybe he was curled up because he was cold – but then he just turned on his heel and started for the shared bathroom on the floor to wash himself and get ready for work.

Neither Carmel nor Grant seemed irritated with him when Adam walked in late, tying his apron around his waist as he exited the backroom. Normally the bar wasn’t very busy in the mornings anyway, so it wasn’t as if they _needed_ a third pair of hands. Still, Adam silently went to work bussing the few tables that had customers. Monsters didn’t care what time of day it was the way humans did: when they wanted to drink, they wanted to drink. Besides, it wasn’t as if any of them held any real jobs in the Grove. Money wasn’t a concern anymore; everything was paid for in flesh and blood. 

It wasn’t until Adam was taking his lunch break in the backroom when Michael finally showed up, descending the stairs in the same clothes from the night before, hair a dark and rumpled mess. He looked wide awake though as he approached the corner of the floor where Adam was sitting cross-legged with a sandwich on a plate in front of him and a bottle of opened beer resting near his knee.

“May I join you?” Michael asked, looking down at Adam.

Adam swallowed the piece of sandwich he had in his mouth before answering: “You don’t have to ask, y’know. You live here now too.”

Michael sat down next to Adam, back resting against the wall. “I don’t want to annoy you,” he admitted outright. “I know I’m probably not your favorite person in the world right now, and I understand that, but...you’re all I have right now.”

Adam found that he was no longer hungry for the sandwich in front of him. If anything, he felt nauseous, and he wasn’t sure why. “Don’t say it like I’m your last chance at saving yourself.”

“But—”

“I said _no._ ” Adam turned to look at Michael. “You don’t get it, do you? You can’t just use people like that. I get that you needed a vessel way back when, but those days are over with now. I’ve got my own life, and yeah it might be shitty, but I don’t want to be _needed_ like that, alright? I’m not a toy.”

They sat side by side in silence, both of them reeling a little from Adam’s outburst, when Michael said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Adam closed his eyes and tried to resist banging his head against the wall; Michael sounded genuinely hurt. And he felt bad. _Guilty._ Why?

“How’d you mean it?” Adam asked when he finally collected himself.

“I just meant...you’re literally all I have right now, Adam. Not even in a vessel-like manner, but just as someone who I can talk to. Someone who knows me. Like a—”

“If you say ‘friend,’ so help me...”

Michael’s lips twitched a little into the beginnings of what might be a smile. “Too soon?”

“I agreed to help you, but we’re not friends.”

Just as quickly as the smile had appeared, it was gone. Michael turned his head to lock eyes with Adam. “How can I change that?” When Adam responded with silence, Michael continued. “I want to fix this, Adam. Whatever this is between us, I want to prove my worth to you.”

“Why?”

“To show you that I mean it when I say I’m sorry for what happened to you. I never meant for it – _any_ of it – to go this far.”

Adam frowned when Michael pushed himself off the wall and stood up again. “Why does it matter to you whether I like you or not?”

“I don’t know if you’ve experienced this, but living with the knowledge that someone hates you is not exactly a pleasant feeling,” Michael deadpanned. He paused. “Especially someone who knows how to hate and love unconditionally, yes chooses hatred anyway.”

“You put too much faith in human emotions,” Adam mused.

“Maybe it’s too much faith in you.”

Adam fell silent at that, but Michael was already walking away before he could come up with a good reply.

An hour passed until they spoke again.

“Where were you and Cas hiding?” Adam asked. 

They were in the basement this time, stacking up boxes of liquor and arranging them so they were easily accessible if necessary. Up until now Grant had been with them lending a hand, but as the afternoon drew nearer and more customers started appearing, Carmel needed him upstairs, so he ended up leaving Adam and the archangel alone. 

Michael’s eyes flicked over to the stairs, as though worried someone was eavesdropping on them, and when he saw the coast was clear he said, “A cabin in West Virginia. Deep in the woods. Isolated. Nobody found us.” He then quickly corrected himself: “At least, we _thought_ nobody found us.”

“You mentioned earlier that you thought demons were on your guys’ tail.” 

Michael nodded as he pushed one particularly heavy box up against the basement wall to get it out of the way. “We saw black smoke descending from the sky and land about fifteen miles away from our hideout. We decided not to chance it and came here.”

“And you guys were hiding there all this time?” Adam couldn’t quite picture Castiel and Michael, of all angels, trying to lay low in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. “What’d you do for fun?”

Michael shrugged one shoulder as he turned to face Adam. “Learned to do human things, I guess. Fishing, cooking, that kind of thing.”

Adam tried really hard not to laugh at the mental image of Castiel riding a horse, in all of his trench coated glory. “Sounds like you guys were living in an episode of The Real World.”

“The what?”

“...Never mind.” 

Michael watched Adam carefully as the boy turned away to hide the flush in his cheeks. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine and dandy,” Adam replied tersely as he stacked one box on top of another for no reason at all. He just needed to move around, do something with his hands and body. Being alone with Michael wasn’t something Adam wanted to experience much, and he was finding that whenever he did, it was a lot easier to talk to the archangel than it should be. It _should_ be hard, but it wasn’t. It was easy to talk to Michael like this, in the most casual way possible, about nothing at all...and it scared Adam a little. He wanted to remain angry at the archangel, otherwise by being nice, Adam was afraid that it would look as though he was letting Michael get away with everything the past two years: using Adam as a vessel, fleeing, hiding out and not lifting a finger to stop Lucifer and his demons from taking over. And the last thing Adam wanted to do was let Michael get away with _anything_. 

Before either of them could move on to another topic, Grant’s voice descended from the top of the staircase: “Adam, Boylan’s here. Wants his usual afternoon pick-me-up.”

Without sparing Michael a second glance, Adam sighed and made for the stairs. 

Boylan was a particularly nasty specimen of vampire who preferred Adam’s blood to Carmel and Grant’s. He claimed that because Adam was the youngest his blood had a nicer taste to it. Sweeter. More fragrant. It made Adam sick to hear someone – some _thing_ – talk about his blood like that, but what could he do? He couldn’t fight back, that was for sure. That only led to trouble. 

He heard Michael following him up the stairs and turned on his heel. “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he commanded. 

Michael had one foot on the top step, frozen in place. “Where are you going?” He sounded like a lost dog. 

“I gotta take care of a customer. Seriously, Michael, just stay put.”

Adam brushed past Grant and continued on into the bar, eyes scanning the crowded space for Boylan’s familiar face. True to form, the vampire was in his usual spot in a corner booth, shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. He was all wide shoulders and broad chest, with a blond head of hair and facial features that Adam probably would’ve considered attractive had he not known Boylan was a bloodthirsty leech with a penchant for draining small children dry in the dead of night. Not exactly dating material.

Boylan was smiling as Adam approached the booth. “My favorite snack,” Boylan greeted in what he probably thought was a friendly tone. “You look exhausted.”

“Lot of work to do around here,” Adam said simply, sliding onto the bench next to Boylan. He already knew this procedure, had been doing it for months now, and knew exactly how Boylan preferred to feed from him. He didn’t want to waste any more time here than necessary; better to just get it over with. The same thing, every time. 

Boylan took his time responding. “You should take a day off. Spend some time to yourself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. You want the usual?”

Now Boylan was finally adjusting himself accordingly, turning a bit in his seat to face Adam, one arm slung over the back of the bench. “You know me too well,” Boylan commented with a tone of amusement. 

“You don’t exactly give me a choice,” Adam reminded him, but quickly shut his mouth in case he further angered the vampire. 

Boylan didn’t seem to take much notice and instead waited for Adam to tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck.

\---

If there was one thing Adam could say for Boylan, it was that the vampire was always careful. Sure, it wasn’t much to go by, but it could always be worse. Adam had been at the mercy of rough and violent vampires before, and by far Boylan was always the gentlest, making sure that he didn’t overdo the drinking, taking care never to bend Adam’s neck back too far where it hurt, and even taking the time to lick any stray trails of blood that trickled down his neck. 

Yeah, it was fucked up. But it was all Adam had going for him when it came to being Boylan’s favorite. Maybe _being_ his favorite was what worked in his favor. It wasn’t as if Adam ever witnessed the guy handling another human; he just heard rumors and whispers of the vampire’s kills. 

Boylan let Adam go after he was gone, wiping his mouth with a dark blue napkin, and Adam tried his best not to stumble his way to the backroom, one hand pressed tightly to his neck. It didn’t matter how little blood was taken from him: he always felt dizzy after being fed from. Part of it was probably the adrenaline rush and the anxiety coursing through his veins. Either way, Adam wanted nothing more than to find a nice patch of floor to lie on and take a nap. One look from Grant and Carmel behind the bar told him that he had the permission to do so. 

Adam pushed through the door to the backroom and was ready to just collapse on the floor, but Michael was there to dash any hope of that happening. 

“What happened?” Michael asked. His eyes traveled to Adam’s hand clutching his neck and, no doubt seeing the blood slowly leaking through his fingers, his green eyes widened in shock. “Adam, your neck—”

“I need to lie down,” Adam interrupted, making for the stairs. “Nap, go into a coma, something.”

That was supposed to be a cue for Michael to leave him alone, but of course it just flew over the archangel’s head. Adam could hear the sound of heavy footsteps following him up the stairs and he sighed. He should’ve known. 

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere, you know,” Adam called over his shoulder, wincing when he turned his neck too much. 

“I’m making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I’m still on my feet, aren’t I?”

That was when Adam’s foot caught on the final step and he pitched forward, landing hard on one knee. He threw both hands out in front of him to keep him from faceplanting into the floor and bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out. 

Michael was next to him in an instant, kneeling and murmuring, “Why do you insist on being so difficult?”

“Because it pisses you off.”

Adam didn’t look up to catch the expression on Michael’s face, but there was a moment of silence as the archangel knelt in thought. 

After a moment, Adam felt a warm hand cupping his chin and lifting his face. Adam had half a mind to struggle, but in the end that would benefit no one, so he let Michael lift his face up so their eyes could meet. 

Michael’s green eyes seemed to be glowing. “You need to stop doing this. Stop fighting back and let me _help you._ ”

A warm sensation trickled from Michael’s hand across the bottom of Adam’s jaw and dipped down to his neck, nesting itself where he could feel the wound left behind by Boylan’s fangs. He felt it pulsing a little bit, like a miniature heartbeat, before it dissipated entirely. 

Adam continued to kneel there, stunned, almost afraid to touch his neck with his own fingers. 

“It’s healed now,” Michael said, answering an unasked question. 

Adam finally touched his neck, fingers gently grazing over the now-smooth, untainted skin. 

“And because I know you won’t say it yourself, you’re welcome,” Michael added before getting back to his feet. He held a hand out to Adam, who, after a moment’s hesitation, grabbed it and allowed Michael to haul him up. 

Michael looked down at their linked hands and frowned. “You should wash that blood off,” he suggested as though he were merely commenting on a wall needing a new coat of paint. 

Adam was still trying to come to terms with the fact that his neck had been magically healed. “I...yeah, I’ll get right on that.” He awkwardly let go of Michael’s hand and made for the bathroom, reaching again to touch his neck. 

He didn’t know why he was so shocked. He’d definitely had weirder experiences with the supernatural; having his wound healed by an archangel shouldn’t have been such a surprising thing. 

But maybe part of it had to do with the fact that it had been Michael healing him, Michael on his knees to help him, Michael’s concerned gaze on his face—

Adam had half a mind to stick his head in the toilet and flush. He needed to stop thinking about Michael, period. But that was hard to do when the archangel was always plastered at his side.

\---

They were lying side by side on separate mattresses. Night had come and gone without incident, considering Adam didn’t go back down to the bar to work after the afternoon’s debacle. Carmel and Grant completely understood and held down the fort on their own, leaving Adam to nap for the rest of the evening while Michael helped out with more box-related stacking in the basement. 

Now, though, it was time to sleep, and Adam just couldn’t do it. His mind was still turning, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling while his hands were locked together behind his head. He could hear Michael’s steady breathing next to him and suddenly wondered if angels even needed to sleep. 

He hesitated before whispering, “Michael?”

There was a second or two before the reply came: “Yes?”

“Do angels sleep?”

“No.”

“...So you’re faking it?”

He could hear Michael chuckling under his breath. “I thought you’d be uncomfortable sleeping in a room with someone else who _doesn’t_ sleep.”

“Well it doesn’t make a difference now, does it?”

A pause. “I suppose not.”

Adam rolled his eyes. Truth be told, he wasn’t uncomfortable with it. It wasn’t as if Michael was sitting up and staring down at Adam while he tried to sleep. One quick turn of Adam’s head and he could see that Michael’s back was to him while he faced the wall. At least he was being polite about it.

“Adam?” Michael suddenly asked.

“Mm?”

“Do you have to feed them every day?”

He should’ve expected this question to come sooner or later. Adam shrugged one shoulder. “Not really. They have their thirsty weeks every now and then, but usually they’re pretty...okay.”

“That wound on your neck didn’t look ‘okay’ to me.” Michael’s tone darkened. 

“Yeah, well, for what it’s worth, Boylan treats me better than most of the other vamps that roll through, so I’ll take what I can get.”

Michael rolled over on his mattress and faced Adam, his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why do you just accept your fate this way? This isn’t the kind of life you should be living, Adam. You deserve more than this.”

“It’s not like I can just pack my bags and _leave_. This is a goddamn compound. Lockdown mode. Lucifer himself’s in here somewhere, with my brothers. Not to mention the whole world’s gone to shit and probably in the same shape as us here.” Adam tilted his head to look Michael in the eye. “So you tell me where I should go, if you think you’re so smart. Better yet—” he sat up on his elbows, “—why don’t you just snap your fingers and fix this whole mess? Send all the demons back to hell and kick your brother’s ass once and for all?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I _can’t_ , Adam. Lucifer very effectively ‘kicked my ass’ in that cemetery, to coin a phrase from you. My powers aren’t what they used to be, nor is my strength.” Adam couldn’t really tell in the darkness, but he was pretty sure Michael’s face was red with embarrassment. “I probably wouldn’t be able to kill most of the demons in this town, let alone take on my brother again.”

Adam didn’t know what to do with that information, so he lay there an extra minute or two before replying, “So what is it you want from me? Why are you here?”

“It’s possible I can gain my strength back over time. Castiel is looking into it on his own,” Michael explained. “I just need a safe place to stay until then.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “You picked a hell of a place to call ‘safe.’ You realize you’re locked in this compound with us, right?”

“That will only be a minor inconvenience once I get my powers back,” Michael reassured him with a small smile. “And then I promise you, I’ll fix this mess of a world. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I was pushed from your body.”

Adam ignored the reference to his having been Michael’s vessel and lied back down, pulling the thin blanket over his chest. “We should get some sleep,” he said simply, rolling over on his side so his back was to Michael. 

Before Michael could reply, footsteps thundered down the hallway towards Adam’s room. The door swung open violently and Grant was standing there, eyes wide.

“We have some black-eyed visitors downstairs.”


	4. Chapter 4

Adam sat up again, this time wide-awake. “Are you sure?”

“’Course I’m fucking sure. I don’t mistake those black eyes for anything else.”

Adam turned to look at Michael, who hadn’t moved at all since Grant burst into the room. His face was unreadable, impassive. 

Adam turned back to Grant. “What do they want? It’s late already, isn’t it?”

“Apparently demonic justice waits for no one. They wanna ask you a few questions,” Grant said.

Heart jumping into his throat, Adam quickly disentangled himself from the bed sheet and stood up. He was in his pajamas, but he hoped that maybe just showing up in front of the demons like this would create some sort of sympathy for him. Not that demons ever had room for sympathy, especially in the Grove, but it was worth a shot and Adam really didn’t feel like getting dressed regardless. 

He didn’t spare Michael a backwards glance as he passed Grant and made for the stairs. Carmel was nowhere to be found – Grant probably told her to get the salt and holy water ready just in case – so Adam was alone when he entered the bar. 

Three demons were sitting on the stools in front of the counter, two men and a woman. They all had blonde hair and looked like they were probably related, with the same pointy chins and sharp cheekbones. They all wore the black-and-maroon uniform of the demonic patrols in the Grove and Adam could see the slight bulges on their hips where they kept their guns. Not that he’d ever seen a demon use a gun before. Normally they just tossed the humans around like they were nothing, but still, humans feared guns, so the demons usually carried them just for the hell of it. 

It was the woman who greeted Adam when he walked into the room. “Adam Milligan. The littlest Winchester.” She smiled toothily. “How’s the bar life treating you?”

“As well as ever,” Adam replied tersely, not moving from his spot in the doorway. “What do you want?”

One of the blond men, the tallest of the three, smirked. “Just a little check-up on the baby of the Winchester family. We want to keep in touch with you, after all.”

“At this time of night?” Adam tried to calm his panicked heartbeat by acting annoyed. “You realize I was trying to sleep, right?”

“We heard there was a scuffle here the other night,” the second man said, ignoring Adam’s complaint completely. “Want to tell us about that?”

Adam shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t witness it, really. I heard shouts out front and Grant went to break them up. That was pretty much it.”

The two men looked at each other but the woman kept her gaze trained on Adam’s face. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable. He felt like any second now and she’d turn her eyes black just to scare him a little. 

Finally, she spoke. “Are you a good little bartender, Adam?”

He had no idea how to reply to that, so he just stood there, dumbfounded. It didn’t matter – she kept going. “Because the only reason you’re still alive is the fact that the blood in your veins is Winchester, if not diluted by bastardization. But if you’re just becoming a waste of space, I don’t think even Sam Winchester himself could convince Lucifer to keep you alive.” The woman smiled, as though pleased by the fact – and she probably was. “Even worse than being a waste of space, though, is being a liar. And we don’t have a high tolerance for liars, Winchesters or not.”

Adam tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. “I don’t—”

“We understand James Boylan came to visit you today,” the woman interrupted. 

“He did.”

“And he fed as usual?”

“...Yeah.”

“So where’s the wound?”

Adam visibly paled and he instinctively clapped a hand to his neck. The three demons smiled knowingly, and Adam realized that he was, for all intents and purposes, fucked. 

“We know Castiel was here, Adam,” the first man said. “We know he was part of that brawl. What we _don’t_ know is who he brought with him. Who healed your neck.”

Adam was totally unprepared to try and lie his way out of this one. The only thing he knew was that, above all else, he had to protect Michael. “Cas came back. He healed me.”

They looked as though they didn’t believe him, not that Adam was surprised. It was a pretty shitty lie. 

A floorboard creaked behind Adam and he almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to look. The demons craned their necks too, and everyone was greeted with the sight of Michael casually walking into the bar, shoulders square and head held high. Adam’s heart nearly gave out; what the hell was Michael doing?

“Is there a problem here?” Michael asked, staring the demons down. 

Adam chanced a look at the demons, but they didn’t seem to realize just who it was that walked into the room. 

The woman stood up from her stool, brushing her maroon jacket down of any lumps, before rounding the counter to stand in front of Michael. Though she was probably intimidating enough on her own, Michael still stood a few inches above her. Adam felt his heartbeat stuttering back to normal at the sight. 

“And who are you?” she asked. “I don’t believe we’ve ever seen your face around here before. Especially after-hours.” 

“I’m Grant’s cousin. Jacob.” The false name passed through Michael’s lips smoothly, like he’d been preparing to use it for some time now. “Sent here just yesterday.”

The woman’s lip twitched. “We weren’t notified of any new prisoners.”

Michael shrugged as though he couldn’t care less. “Probably buried under whatever other paperwork you have. _If_ you even have paperwork. Lord knows how this compound’s even managed.”

Adam felt like he should conspicuously kick Michael for pushing too much, but the woman said nothing about his attitude, merely eyed him some more. 

“What’s your last name, Jacob?” she asked.

“Wilson.” Again, he didn’t even hesitate. 

She pursed her lips before turning back to her colleagues. Adam tried to quash the hope that they were leaving, because for all he knew she was just signaling the other demons to execute them here and now, but the other two merely stood up at attention. 

“I don’t suppose you’d know where this angel Castiel is?” she asked, turning to Michael. “Because my men and I are very keen on locating him. And this is the last place where he was seen.” 

She snapped her fingers at the two men and nodded in Adam’s direction. Before he knew what was happening, he was thrown on his back on top of the bar counter, arms and legs pinned down courtesy of the two men. Michael immediately made towards him but the woman stepped between. 

“How interesting it is that you should show up the same night Castiel does,” she said, her tone sweet. “And by ‘interesting,’ of course, I mean ‘suspicious.’”

Michael squared his jaw but his eyes never left Adam. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Oh, of course we can’t. But you can always confess whatever it is you’re lying about.”

“I’m not lying.”

“No? Then I suppose you have an explanation for the boy’s wounds being magically healed.” She indicated to where Adam lay, trapped. “Only an angel could’ve done that.”

“Are you suggesting this angel would’ve risked his life coming _back_ here simply to heal a boo-boo on Adam’s neck?” The sarcasm dripped from Michael’s voice flawlessly, and Adam had to wonder if maybe he was rubbing off on the archangel after only a few days together. “Pardon me, but that sounds highly unlikely.”

The woman’s lips pursed and her eyes darkened, but didn’t turn completely black just yet. She stared Michael down and Adam could see from his awkward position that their eyes were meeting, locking onto each other, waiting to see which of the two would be the first to look away. 

In the end, Michael averted his gaze first. Whether it was because he was afraid of being discovered through sight or to put on the show of being a terrified human, Adam didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry. That was out of line,” Michael apologized, sounding genuinely sorry. 

The woman made a little huffing noise and took a step closer to him. “We’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

The demons vanished in the blink of an eye, not even wasting the time to say goodbye or deliver one final threat. Adam knew: their sudden disappearance was the threat. It was a ‘we’ll be back soon’ message to both of them, and if there was one thing Adam knew about the demons in the Grove, it was that they always delivered on what they promised to do. 

Adam began to sit up on the counter, but Michael was already at his side, one hand on the small of his back to steady him. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not o-friggin’-kay,” Adam couldn’t help but snap. Immediately, though, his gaze flicked over to Michael’s face and, upon seeing the slightly hurt expression on it, Adam’s hardened interior softened. “Sorry. Just a little shaken up.”

Michael nodded and helped Adam hop off the counter, brushing some dust off his back when Adam turned to leave the bar. “Where are you—?”

“We need a plan,” Adam said, hands balled into fists as he pushed through the door into the backroom, Michael only a few steps behind as he followed. “Those demons are gonna come back. They know you’re not who you say you are, especially because they’re right – you turning up the same day as Cas looks weird to them.”

“They couldn’t figure out who I was,” Michael pointed out. “Even with that woman staring me down.”

“No, they couldn’t, but pretty sure they’re gonna find out that Jacob Wilson doesn’t really exist, and then their suspicion will grow. They’re not gonna leave us alone.”

“Well then what do you – Adam, will you _stop walking away_ and just look at me?” 

Adam froze, one foot on the bottom step, and turned his head to face Michael. For the first time since he’d been here, Michael looked angry. Not annoyed, not irritated – angry. His jaw was tight and his face was cast mostly in shadows. 

“I get it, okay?” Michael hissed. “You hate me. You hate that I’ve managed to worm my way back into your life when you thought you’d gotten rid of me. But keeping me in the dark about whatever it is you’re thinking about right now isn’t going to help either of us.”

“I don’t know what to think. Alright?” Adam flung his arms out to his sides as though in surrender. “I don’t know what to fucking think. You turn up out of nowhere and Cas asks me to take care of you, and now we’ve got the demon patrol on our asses. What if they figure it out, huh? What if they go to Lucifer, tell him you’re here?”

“Would you turn me in?”

The question sideswiped Adam, stumped him completely. He fell silent, searching for an answer. 

Michael took a step closer to him. “If it meant saving yourself and Grant and Carmel, would you turn me in?” he asked again. 

Adam tightened his grip on the banister. He hated being put on the spot like this, but it was a valid question. An important one, too. If Michael felt that he couldn’t trust Adam, the archangel might just take it upon himself and leave. He wasn’t above it, that was for sure. But something inside Adam balked at the idea of Michael leaving on his own, trying to survive in the Grove with no protection or no place to hide. He was once the Sword of Heaven but now, with his powers zapped, he was even weaker than the lowest-ranking angels in the garrison. He’d never be able to make it on his own out there. 

That was when Adam figured out his answer. “No. I wouldn’t.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow and Adam felt compelled to explain himself. 

“You’re literally our only hope, Michael. Not to steal a phrase from _Star Wars_ or get all cliché on you. Turning you in wouldn’t do any of us any good except fuck ourselves over even more than we already are.”

Michael’s face softened. He opened his mouth to say something, but then apparently thought better of it and closed his mouth again. Adam was curious though, and asked him what he’d been about to say. Michael looked a little hesitant, but he finally said, “I was going to comment on how it sounds as though you’re only keeping me so long as I can be useful to you, but...I suppose in retrospect, that’s all I really deserve.”

“You used me,” Adam said in agreement.

“And now you’re using me.” Michael smiled a little sadly. “I suppose it’s only fair.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not doing this out of spite. It just so happens...I mean, you being who you are...”

Michael suddenly chuckled under his breath and Adam frowned. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked. 

“You don’t remember?” When he got no response, Michael continued. “I suppose since it’s been so long you wouldn’t recall, but...I’d said something similar to you to get you to say ‘yes’ to me.” 

Adam furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to remember. “You did?”

“I’d said that you being who you are meant that being my vessel was something you were meant to do.”

“And I fell for that shit?”

“Not necessarily. You took a lot of convincing.” A small smile graced Michael’s face at the memory. “I could see some of that Winchester stubbornness shining through.”

Adam must’ve made a face of disgust, because Michael quickly said, “That’s not a bad thing, you know. You put up quite a valiant fight.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for the compliment?”

Michael sighed, shoulders sagging. “That’s not what I...” He shook his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Wait.” 

Adam tried to reel back his antagonism. He didn’t know _everything_ about angels, but from what he remembered about briefly meeting Castiel, he knew that their species wasn’t exactly the most eloquent at expressing themselves, especially when it came to human emotions. Sympathy. Sorrow. It was unfamiliar territory for them, really, and Adam had to imagine that for Michael it was even worse, him having been kept cooped up in Heaven for so long without angel-to-human interaction. 

Adam made another attempt. “Look. I’m...I’m sorry, okay? I’m not...trying to beat you to death with the past. It’s just hard to forget.”

“I understand.” Michael smiled but Adam could tell it was forced. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended or anything. You’ve been through much; you deserve to...ah, blow off a little steam, if I’m using that phrase properly.”

“You are.” Adam loosened his grip on the banister and looked up the stairs when he heard approaching footsteps. Grant and Carmel stood at the top, looking down at him with concern in their eyes. 

“What happened?” Carmel asked. “With the demons? What did they want?”

Adam and Michael looked at each other before Adam finally admitted, “It got a little complicated.”

\---

“You two need to leave” was the first thing Carmel said when Adam finished regaling her with the events of earlier.

“Leave? Are you fucking kidding me?” Adam blurted. “Where the hell would we go?”

The four of them were crammed into Adam’s room, sitting cross-legged on the two mattresses shoved into the floor space. Michael had been silent during Adam’s retelling, choosing to try and melt into the shadows that occupied the corner where he was sitting. Either he didn’t want to get in the way or he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. 

Carmel and Grant locked eyes with each other conspiratorially. Adam waited for them to start explaining, and when they didn’t, he asked, “What? You guys got some sort of contingency plan I don’t know about?”

“Something like that,” Grant said with a small nod.

“Why do we have to leave?”

“Those demons aren’t done with you yet. They’ll come back. If they already know about Castiel being here, they’ll start hovering, hoping other angels drop by. And with what happened to your wound...” Carmel trailed off. “They probably already suspect Michael.”

“And what happens when they come back and we aren’t here?” Adam asked.

“One of two things. They’ll either start tracking you down immediately, in which case you’ll both need to be well-hidden, or they’ll search the place, possibly torture us for info, or just outright kill us.” 

Grant said it with such frankness that Adam almost though he’d heard incorrectly. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. “You can’t expect me to be okay with abandoning you guys if it comes down to that.”

“We knew what we were getting into when we agreed to take you in here,” Carmel explained, reaching out to hold Adam’s hand with her own. She was warm and comforting, giving his hand a small reassuring squeeze. “We knew who your brothers were, what it meant for us that we’d have you under our roof. And we had a feeling that if trouble ever did come knocking and calling your name, that we’d be okay with whatever consequences followed.”

Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and part of it angered him. He snatched his hand back. “I’m not letting you guys do this. You can’t...you can’t expect me to just agree to this bullshit!”

Carmel tilted her head to the side. “What ‘bullshit’, Adam? You’re the one who convinced us to keep Michael safe. You said he was our best hope for a better world.”

Adam blushed at the memory of having said that at some point during his explanation of being Michael’s vessel. He didn’t turn to look at Michael’s reaction to that. “I know, but—”

“So keeping you both alive is the only chance we’ve got,” Carmel concluded. 

“Why am _I_ included in this rescue mission?” Adam asked. “It’s Michael we need to prioritize.”

“He’s not strong enough to be on his own,” Grant replied. “You need to help him.”

“A fat lot of help I am,” Adam snorted. “It’s not like I have any hunter prowess to protect us. Maybe you should ask Sam and Dean for a hand.”

“Adam.” Michael was finally stepping into the conversation, leaning out of the darkness. “Please stop underestimating yourself.”

Everyone in the small circle fell silent at the request, and even Adam bowed his head a little. 

Michael continued. “As I understand it, these demons patrol the compound, yes?”

Carmel nodded. “They ‘keep the peace,’ is what they say they do, but mostly they terrorize the humans who live here.”

“And kill,” Grant added. “They’re big on killing. Especially hunters and angels.”

“They’re ordered to kill angels on sight. Lucifer’s not man enough to do it himself,” Carmel said with disgust in her voice.

Michael sighed. “Whatever Lucifer may command, the angels are still his brothers and sisters. He wouldn’t want to be the one to raise a hand against them, so he has his demons do it for him.”

“What a lovely guy,” Adam muttered. 

Michael ignored him. “Does Lucifer reside here?”

“Yeah. This is the main compound, I guess you could say,” Grant answered.

“Then it’ll be twice as difficult trying to escape.”

“Why don’t we just call Cas back here and he can poof us to a safer place?” Adam asked, voicing the question that had been in the back of his mind for a while now.

Carmel was already shaking her head. “You don’t wanna risk getting Cas caught. Chances are the demons are monitoring us right now, watching the building.”

Adam realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was probably right. Once the demons caught whiff of a potential angel in the area, they didn’t let up. It was either a testament to their perseverance or to Lucifer’s obsessive nature that all his siblings be rounded up and killed to prevent an uprising. 

“So how are Adam and I supposed to escape if we’re being watched?” Michael asked.

Again, Carmel and Grant caught each other’s eye. 

“Underground tunnels,” Carmel finally replied. “Or, well, _one_ tunnel.”

“It leads under the compound gates and you end up somewhere in the woods outside,” Grant supplied helpfully. “Nobody’s found it since we did, and we took special care to hide its existence just in case we ever needed an escape route.”

“Which it sounds like we do,” Carmel interjected with a small smile. She looked at Adam, then at Michael, then back at Adam again. “So how about we break you guys out of here?”

\---

In the end, Michael carried a backpack full of food and water while Adam had a duffle stuffed with extra clothes and a couple blankets, just in case they didn’t find good enough shelter out there. Neither of them knew how long they’d be foraging in the woods, but they both had a pretty good understanding that they wouldn’t be returning to the Grove anytime soon. Or ever again, if things got ugly. 

The entrance to the tunnel was hidden behind the pile of boxes in the basement that Adam and Michael had been stacking the morning before. The irony of un-stacking them was lost on Adam as they got to work, moving boxes aside to expose the medium-sized hole close to the ground. Adam got down on his knees and peered inside. He couldn’t see an inch in front of him, not that he expected there to be light inside, but it would’ve been nice. 

“How far is it to the forest?” Michael asked from behind Adam.

“It’ll take you an hour of steady crawling, probably,” Grant said. “Make sure you don’t rush it, though. You don’t wanna tire yourself out in there.”

Adam stuck his head in a little further before his vision was swallowed up in the darkness and he recoiled violently, chest constricting. “I can’t do this.”

Grant, sitting on one of the discarded boxes, frowned at him. “Adam, you’ve gotta—”

“I can’t, I can’t go in there.” Adam tried to keep his voice level but some remnants of mania slipped through. “It’s too dark a-and I can’t see...”

Michael, kneeling behind him, put a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Adam involuntarily leaned into the touch, gravitating towards the comforting feeling. 

“Are you claustrophobic?” Michael asked gently, his voice barely above a murmur. 

Adam instinctively wanted to say no and deny it, but the truth was right in front of him, taunting him in the form of their only chance for escape. He swallowed hard and caught Michael’s eye, hoping that he wouldn’t have to vocalize his fear in front of Grant and Carmel, even though it was already obvious by the way he was acting. 

The archangel seemed to understand. “Why don’t I go ahead of you, so you can grab my shoe while we crawl along? That way you’ll know I’m there.”

It was a suggestion that probably would’ve pissed Adam off earlier, being treated like a child, but circumstances were different now and he was just grateful that Michael was being so calm and rational about it. Adam nodded and Michael squeezed his shoulder again before shifting positions to move ahead of Adam in front of the tunnel opening. 

Grant and Carmel moved to take positions on either side of Adam, getting ready to close the opening behind them when they crawled far enough inside. Adam paused to look at each of them in turn, his eyes tracing the contours of their faces carefully. They all knew this might be the last time Adam would see either of them, but nobody said anything about it. 

“Keep an eye on him,” Carmel said, referring to Michael. “I know you’re not his biggest fan, but the world may need him one day.”

“And watch out for yourself too, kid,” Grant added.

Adam nodded, trying to blink away the stinging sensation in his blue eyes. “You two be careful, okay? No pissing off any more demons.”

They both chuckled, and Adam, not wanting to admit this was goodbye, settled for merely ducking his head into the tunnel to follow Michael into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

The second Adam heard Carmel and Grant shove the boxes back over the entrance of the tunnel and locked him and Michael inside, he wanted to scream and turn around. The darkness was crushing him from all sides, robbing the air from his lungs, and no amount of Michael’s presence, he thought, could help. 

“Adam. Hey. I’m here.” Michael’s voice was soft, coming from the black depths ahead of him. “I’m right here with you, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam wanted to come back with some sort of snappy retort but he didn’t have it in him. The darkness around him was overwhelming; he felt as though any words he tried to speak would get swallowed up, that even Michael would vanish in the darkness and he’d be trapped in here, all alone. 

The very thought made Adam surge forward and bump into Michael, but he didn’t care at this point about the closeness or the fact that he could smell Michael’s natural scent of firewood and morning dew on a grassy lawn. He didn’t care that he was currently burying his face into Michael’s shoulder blade, as though trying to suffocate himself against something solid rather than face the endless black tunnel in front of him. All he cared about was finding something solid, and feeling the steady rise and fall of Michael’s body in front of him as he breathed was the most comforting thing he could find and cling to. 

If Michael found it strange or odd, he didn’t say so. Instead, he awkwardly reached one arm around so he could run his fingers through Adam’s hair. 

“We can’t go back, Adam,” Michael reminded him gently. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Adam’s voice was muffled against the cloth of Michael’s shirt. “I just...” His eyes were closed, because even though it was pitch-black whether they were open or not, at least if they were shut he could pretend they weren’t crawling through a tunnel. “I just need to keep my eyes shut.”

“Will it help if you hold onto my shoe?”

“...Maybe.”

“I’ll move slowly.”

“N-No, you can...go as fast as you want. I wanna get out of here as soon as we can.”

Michael said nothing, but Adam could feel the muscles on his back moving; he was probably nodding in agreement. “Alright. Keep your eyes shut if that helps any. I’ll get us out of here.”

With that said, they began their steady crawl through the tunnel. It was difficult at first for Adam to keep one hand on Michael’s shoe, so eventually he switched to holding onto the fabric of his jeans which provided him with a better grip. Michael didn’t protest or make a comment about it, so they continued on in mutual silence, the only sounds being the light scraping of their hands and knees on the dirt ground. 

Their progress was slow, but Adam tried not to think about the amount of time they’d spent underground. Thinking about that would only make him think about how deep they’d gone, and then that would just remind him that there really was no turning back, and that would lead to some sort of internal panic and...yeah, it was a dangerous thought process. Instead, Adam focused on the physical things that he could feel and hear: Michael’s jeans in his iron-grip, the solid ground beneath his knees, the sound of Michael’s steady breathing ahead of him. 

After what felt like hours, Adam could sense a change in the air pressure and smell: they were nearing the end of the tunnel. 

As if on cue, Michael spoke: “There’s a little moonlight ahead of us, if you’d like to open your eyes now.”

Adam shook his head. “I’ll wait.”

They continued on, and at long last, he felt Michael pull away sharply as he lifted himself out of the end of the tunnel, the final stretch of it slanting upwards a few feet. Without waiting for Adam to open his eyes or ask if the coast was clear, Michael reached back into the tunnel, grabbed Adam around the armpits, and pulled him out in one smooth motion before setting him on his feet.

“You made it,” Michael said, sounding proud. 

Adam finally opened his eyes. They were in the middle of the forest, with trees everywhere and no sign of the compound. The moon was shining through the leaves of the canopy above and the forest floor was littered with broken twigs. But, most importantly: they were _out_ of the tunnel. The fresh air was sickeningly sweet to breathe in, but Adam savored every breath regardless.

It wasn’t until after he took in his surroundings that he realized Michael’s arms were still around him, and he took a step back to get his personal space again. Michael didn’t protest or say anything by way of apology. Damn angels.

“I didn’t know you were claustrophobic,” he commented as though he were talking about something as simple as the weather. 

Adam felt his cheeks tinge with embarrassment and he turned his face away. “I wasn’t always.”

“Oh?”

Adam hated the curiosity in Michael’s voice. “It was after I was your vessel. Being stuck in my own head, trapped...after that, I sort of...”

He trailed off, but his gaze flicked to the side to see Michael’s reaction, but his face was unreadable for the most part. 

They stood there in tense silence for what felt like minutes but was probably only a few seconds before Michael spoke again. “If there had been any other way...” He swallowed hard and tried to start again. “I don’t regret many things in my existence, but if there’s one thing I do regret, it’s what you were dragged into simply for being the wrong person’s son.”

Adam didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded. He hated feeling awkward around Michael, but this outpouring of apology and emotion was so... _unusual_ for him to be around. Especially coming from an archangel, from someone who was usually so stoic and guarded about what he was feeling. Adam knew, after all, how protective Michael could be about his feelings, considering they’d once shared a body and a brain. His. 

Michael waited for Adam to respond verbally somehow, but when he didn’t, the archangel spoke again. “We should find someplace to sleep for the night. I don’t think we’ll get much traveling done in the dark as it is.”

“We should hide the tunnel first,” Adam finally said. “Cover it with sticks or something, just in case someone stumbles across the entrance.”

Michael agreed, and together the two of them managed to hide the hole with fallen branches and leaves. The chances of anyone trekking through the woods for a hike were slim to none, and if anyone came chasing after them, they just had to cross their fingers that nobody would accidentally step into the hole and find it the hard way. 

Once the hole was covered and they both had their backpacks situated again, Michael took the lead, stepping carefully through the spaces between trees in search of a temporary hideout. Adam followed close behind, taking care to make his footsteps light and quiet so they didn’t attract any unwanted attention from whatever animals still lived here. 

“If we could find a cave that’d be awesome,” Adam supplied, trying to be helpful. “Just bivouac there for the night or something. And I can make a fire so we can keep warm or cook something.”

“Eagle Scout training, yes?” Michael asked, looking back at Adam over his shoulder. 

“At least it’s finally handy.”

Michael’s lips twitched; he was trying not to smile. “Did you enjoy being a Boy Scout?”

Adam shrugged as he stepped over a fallen log. “It was fun while it lasted, yeah.” He paused. “I turned in my badge while I was in college though.”

“Really?” Michael turned to look at him again. “Why?”

Adam nibbled on his bottom lip as they continued to move through the forest. “Protest against the exclusion of people in the Boy Scouts based on sexual orientation,” he said, as though reciting it from memory. “A couple of my friends turned their badges in too. Not that it made any difference in the end.”

Michael stopped walking so he could turn and face Adam. “It doesn’t matter whether it changed their policies or not. You stood up for your beliefs. That’s more important than the end result, I think.” Michael smiled encouragingly. “Did you write a letter to go along with your returned badge or just send the badge on its own?”

“Why d’you ask?”

“I know firsthand that being on the receiving end of your irritation is never fun. I was wondering if maybe you made the organization feel the brunt of your anger.”

Adam blinked. Was Michael making fun of him? He was...but not in a malicious way. There was a fond glint in his green eyes that might’ve just been the moonlight, but it warmed Adam’s bones to see it, so he smiled back. “I wrote a letter but I was polite about it.”

“No expletives?”

“None.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Shut up.”

Michael chuckled and turned back around to continue leading them towards shelter. Adam, not knowing what to make of their brief interaction sans malevolence, followed again. 

Ten minutes later, Michael stopped. Their surroundings looked exactly the same and as far as Adam could tell, there was no sign of real shelter around. 

“I don’t think we’ll be able to make much more progress. We need sleep. You need sleep,” Michael corrected himself. “I’ll stand guard for the night.”

Adam wasted no time in tossing his backpack to the ground so he could dig around inside it for a blanket or two and wrap them around his torso. He lay down on the forest floor and used the bag as a makeshift pillow. Not the most comfortable position, but it was better than nothing and certainly better than being caught and sleeping in a cell. 

Michael took a seat on a tree stump a few feet from where Adam lay, and before he knew it, the exhaustion of the night’s events crept up on him and he fell asleep.

\---

It was the sun that woke Adam, and though he tried to remain curled up in the blankets for a few moments longer, eventually the pain of blinking the rays out of his eyes grew on him and so he sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. His back ached from the awkward sleeping position and his joints felt stiff, but he was alive and free of the compound, and that was all that mattered. 

Behind him, still sitting on the log in what looked like the same position he’d been left in, Michael greeted the waking human. “Morning.”

Adam kept himself wrapped in the blanket but nodded in Michael’s direction lazily. “You too. Anything exciting happen?”

Michael shook his head. “Everything was quiet. Except you, actually. You snore.”

“Do not!”

Michael looked like he was trying not to grin. “You do, actually. It’s not too loud, but in a quiet forest, it was a bit much.”

“I do not snore,” Adam insisted. “Maybe you were hearing a bear growling somewhere in the woods.”

“It was definitely you.”

Adam unwrapped the blankets around himself and stood up, nearly tripping over them as he did so. “Where are we going next?” he asked, trying to divert the conversation topic away from his bodily functions. 

Michael was still smiling a little but he didn’t insist on talking more about Adam’s sleep habits. “I scouted ahead a little a few hours ago and found a river. We should follow it, maybe it’ll lead somewhere we can make a more permanent rest.”

“What if we just keep finding more compounds?” Adam asked, voicing the fear that had been itching in the back of his mind since they’d started this endeavor. “What if we can’t find any safe place to hide and we just end up living in the woods like savages for the rest of our lives?”

Michael stood up from the log and approached Adam, placing one firm hand on his shoulder as though to steady the boy. “If it comes down to that, we stick together. I will not leave you, and I’ll trust you not to leave me. That’s all we can hope for.”

Adam caught his eye and nodded in understanding. “I’m not gonna leave you. Especially now. Crawled all the way through that damn tunnel for an hour just for you, didn’t I?”

Michael chuckled under his breath. “That’s true, you did. And I’m grateful for it. For everything you’re sacrificing on my behalf yet again. It hasn’t gone unnoticed, Adam.”

Adam shifted his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with where the conversation seemed to be turning. He didn’t like talking about his time as Michael’s vessel, and truth be told if he could have things his way he’d avoid the subject altogether. But the fact of the matter was that, at some point, they would have to face their demons head-on. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Adam finally said.

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like this is another big sacrifice the way saying yes had been. It’s not the same.”

“More difficult, perhaps?”

“No. Easier.” Adam kicked at the dirt with the tip of his sneaker. Michael’s hand was still on his shoulder. “Leaving my home is easier than giving up control of my body.” 

“Don’t belittle once sacrifice for another, Adam. You only belittle yourself that way.” Michael’s grip on his shoulder tightened a little. “All I’m saying is that, for everything you’ve done for me, I’m truly grateful. And – I mean it – I’ll repay you one day.”

Adam’s eyes darkened at those words. “You mean the way you said you’d bring me to my mom if I said yes? And never did?”

Michael took his hand away at last as though Adam’s shirt burned him. 

Adam closed his eyes and tried to pull back the anger, but he could taste it in the back of his throat like bile rising. “You said if I said yes then I could see my mom,” he repeated.

“We lost the fight, Adam,” Michael reminded him gently. His next words faltered, and he corrected himself: “ _I_ lost the fight. As much as I wanted to bring your mother to you – and I did – it was impossible.”

“You never said anything about _winning_ the fight.”

“Look what happened to me, Adam. My powers are gone. I can barely be classified as an angel, let alone the Prince of Heaven.” Michael looked as though it physically pained him to admit this, and for all Adam knew it probably did. “As much as I want to keep my word, I can’t. But if I ever do get my powers back, reuniting you with your mother will be my first priority. It’s the least I can do for you, considering everything you’ve done for me.”

Adam’s blue eyes searched Michael’s green ones for any sign of hesitation or untruthfulness, but all he could see was what looked like bona fide sorrow. Adam had a strange desire to smack the look right off his face. Screw Michael’s sorrow and sympathy. Screw his woeful attitude. Screw his sadness. And yet Adam knew he’d never do that, especially now when they were so dependant on each other for survival out here in the wilderness. Not that he wanted whatever progress they were making to deteriorate based on their dependency, but...

Suddenly too overwhelmed with the complications of their situation, Adam broke away from Michael’s gaze and bent to pick the blankets off the ground, silently folding them and putting them in the backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. Michael waited in silence, and when Adam was ready, the two of them began yet another slow trek through the woods, this time heading for where Michael had spotted the river. 

They reached the riverbank in a little under ten minutes and Adam immediately dropped the backpack on a dry patch of ground before heading to the water’s edge so he could just stand there and stare. If he stared long enough he could pretend that this was it: this was the world. It was nature and green things and the sound of rushing water, not dirty barrooms and monsters under the bed and teeth piercing his skin in search of blood. 

Michael seemed to understand Adam’s fascination with the sight because he didn’t question why the boy stopped and he didn’t insist on continuing upriver. 

When Adam spoke it was with the voice of someone who didn’t know what he wanted in life anymore: “Do we have to keep going?”

Michael approached his side and they stood there staring at the river. “You mean keep walking?”

“No. Going. Fighting. Doing whatever it is Carmel and Grant expect of us.” Adam waved a nonchalant hand towards the water. “We could just stay out here. Hunker down, build a cabin, pretend there’s no compounds or demon patrols or Lucifer.”

“We’d be caught eventually.”

“Not if we were really good about it.”

Michael sighed. “Adam, we can’t. We owe it to the world to try and help in any way we can. That doesn’t include becoming backwoods hermits hiding from monsters.”

Adam blinked and the illusions of grandeur (or simplicity, really) were gone, replaced by the cold reality of what they had in front of them. Michael tugged on his shirtsleeve gently to goad him onwards, and after picking up the backpack again they were off. 

As they trekked along the river, they made small talk. It was simple at first, with Michael asking Adam about the banalities of living in the compound, what it was like, how he lived day to day, and eventually grew more complex, with Adam finding himself genuinely curious about aspects of Michael too. What else did he and Castiel do while in hiding? Did he miss Heaven? What was it like being near human from the point of view of someone who never was? 

And finally, something Adam had wondered for quite some time: “What do your wings look like?”

Michael practically tripped over a branch in front of him, surprised at the question. “My wings?”

“Yeah, your wings. Those big fluffy things birds usually have to fly around with? What’d they look like?” 

Michael turned his head to look back at the boy. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember?” Adam frowned. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“You did. Once. When I came down to get you from the room in Van Nuys.” Michael’s voice was laced with what sounded like a gloomy nostalgia. “That was the first time we saw each other in person. I remember...” He trailed off as though he thought better of it, but when Adam asked him to continue, he did. “I remember it because it was the first and last time you looked at me without fear or hatred in your eyes.” 

Adam tried not to react to that and instead continued to pick his way through the brambles in the forest. “I _was_ scared,” he reminded Michael, “but...I also remember being a little...amazed.”

He could hear Michael chuckling from ahead. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

“Whoa, calm down there, egomaniac,” Adam joked. “I just meant that, y’know, I’d never seen an angel before. Or at least, not one in its pure form.”

“I look different than my siblings,” Michael explained. “No two angels look the same.”

“Like snowflakes.”

Michael stopped walking so he could look quizzically back at Adam. “Did you just equate God’s children to snowflakes?”

“There a problem with that?”

“I...” Michael eventually waved one hand in surrender before resuming his steady walking pace. “As I was saying, we all look different. Some of us have more wings than others, some of us have animal heads, et cetera. In our true forms, the human eye cannot perceive us. If someone tries, his eyes burn out.”

“But mine didn’t,” Adam reminded him. 

“Because you’re part of my bloodline,” Michael explained. “The Winchester bloodline. You and your brothers would be able to look upon my true form without worrying about going blind.” Michael waited a beat before asking, “You really don’t remember what I looked like?”

“Not a damn clue. I just remember a lot of light.”

“Those were my wings.”

“How many watts are they?”

“They’re not measured in—” When he heard Adam laughing behind him, Michael finally understood that he’d just been kidding. “Well I’m glad _someone’s_ finally enjoying himself out here.”

“I’m trying not to do it at your expense, I promise, but sometimes it’s just too easy.”

“Mhmm.”

Adam quickened his pace so he could walk alongside Michael instead of behind him, their course still true as they traveled with the river. Adam looked up at the sky briefly to try and get a bearing on which direction they were headed. Based on the position of the sun (thank you common sense and Boy Scout training) they were heading west in what looked to be a straight line. Adam didn’t know what other towns or compounds were in the area, but he just hoped against all odds that they wouldn’t run into any unfriendly territory or creatures. 

So far their progress had been peaceful, only broken on occasion by wild animals, but they were usually only deer or rabbits, nothing to really worry about. 

If Adam were going to be honest with himself, too, the company wasn’t so bad. If he shut off the part of his brain that kept trying to remind him who Michael was, Adam could pretend that Michael was just any other guy, that they were even friends. Two friends taking a hike through the woods together, just having normal conversations about demon patrols and what an angel’s wings looked like. 

Adam took a moment to glance briefly at Michael walking next to him. He was so _human_ now that it was hard for Adam to remember that he wasn’t. And, if he was going to be honest with himself, Adam liked this Michael. He liked the non-magnanimous version of Michael, the guy who cracked jokes and smiled real smiles, like he wasn’t planning something devious in the back of his mind. 

Michael seemed to notice the silence that fell between them coupled with Adam’s staring, because he turned to catch Adam’s eye and smiled when he looked away quickly. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Adam lied. “Just...you seem happy, considering the circumstances.”

“I am. Considering the circumstances,” Michael echoed. He adjusted the backpack straps on his shoulders as they walked. “What about you? Are you happy?”

It was a loaded question. Was Adam feeling the pure essence of happiness right now? No, definitely not. But for what they had, and what cards they were dealt with, it could be a lot worse. 

“I’m managing,” Adam finally said. “Kinda wish we weren’t fugitives, but I guess in a post-apocalyptic world you don’t really have much license to complain too much.”

They walked for a few more minutes before Adam spoke again: “So if you get your powers back, how’re you gonna fix this?”

“Killing Lucifer.” Michael’s answer was quick and to the point; he hadn’t even hesitated to think about it. “I’ve come to realize it’s the only way. Part of me wishes I could spare him, because despite all that he’s done he’s still my brother and I still believe there could be something in him worth redeeming.”

“But...?” 

“But...that would be unfair. He’s already proven that he has no reservations about bringing humanity to its knees. Allowing him to live, giving him the possibility of growing stronger again and repeating what he’s already done here...it wouldn’t be fair to the human race. To the world as a whole. I have to kill him in the end.”

“You always did,” Adam reminded him. “Fight each other, I mean.”

“Lucifer was being merciful by letting me live when he had every opportunity to just get rid of me,” Michael continued as though Adam hadn’t spoken. “I wish I could give him that same luxury, but I can’t.”

“Nobody’s gonna judge you for it, Mike. You have to do the right thing.”

“But what is the right thing here?” Michael asked. “And did you just call me ‘Mike’?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“That’s not my name.”

“It’s a nickname. People who’re close to you might use it.”

“Does this mean we’re close now?” Michael didn’t say it like he was expecting one answer over another: it was just so matter-of-fact and innocent. 

It stumped Adam, but after a brief pause he said, “Sure. Why not, considering all we’ve been through together.”

“Good. I’m glad we’ve evolved past our prior state of resentment.”

Adam suddenly laughed, startling Michael briefly with the unexpectedness of it. “What’s so funny?”

“You are. Nobody talks like that, dude,” Adam said. 

“So you want me to talk like everyone else? Or you?” Michael’s lips were quirking up into a smile. “Should I tack on ‘dude’ at the end of every sentence?”

Adam gave him a little shove. “I _don’t_ do that.”

Michael accepted the shove without question but didn’t push back like Adam had expected. “You do, _dude_.”

The word sounded weird coming from Michael’s lips and Adam laughed. “Okay, I take it back. Keep talking the way you normally talk. I can’t handle slang coming from you, it doesn’t work.”

They were both still smiling even as they continued to walk in silence.

\---

“I smell fine, Adam, I promise you. I’m perfectly clean.”

“You haven’t bathed or showered since you showed up at the Grove. You smell like the ass end of a horse. Now get in the fucking water and wash yourself.”

‘Arguing over hygiene with a warrior of God’ wasn’t high up on Adam’s bucket list, yet somehow he found himself doing exactly that. Michael’s greasy dark hair was distracting him now and he was starting to smell. Luckily someone (probably Grant) had thought to shove a bar of soap into the outer zip pocket of Adam’s backpack and he made Michael walk with him to the riverbank so they could wash themselves, which Adam now wanted to do. Desperately. There was only so much of Michael’s ‘natural angel musk’ that he could handle when it was hidden by a layer scented with sweat, dirt, and mud.

Michael glared at Adam for the expletive-ridden command, but nonetheless dropped his backpack on the ground and made for the river, shoes and all. He stood at the water’s edge, staring down at it for a moment, before he kicked his shoes off behind him and started ridding himself of his clothes. 

Immediately Adam turned away so he could strip down as well. Creeping on Michael’s body was the last thing he wanted to be caught doing, even if a part of him was, admittedly, a little curious. _More_ than a little, really. It wasn’t as if Michael was an ugly guy.

Adam just finished pushing his boxers down his legs when he heard Michael wading into the river. Figuring it was safe to turn around without accidentally seeing more of Michael than he meant to, Adam kicked his discarded clothing towards the grass and made his own way towards the water, keeping his eyes downcast until he’d waded in up to his waist. The water was cool and refreshing, but not too chilly, so Adam had no problem dunking his head under quickly just to get it over with. 

When he surfaced, Michael was still standing waist-deep in the water, doing nothing. 

“C’mon. Wash yourself,” Adam prodded.

“I’m enjoying the moment.” 

With that, Michael closed his eyes as though trying to rest, but Adam would have none of that. He smirked before rearing his arm back and smacking the water in Michael’s direction, splashing him in the side of the face. Adam took one look at the now-soaked archangel and burst out laughing, despite the way Michael was turning to glare at him.

“Oh come on,” Adam said between stifled giggles. “Live a little. Smile.”

Michael continued to stare at him, and for a moment Adam wondered if maybe he’d gone too far in his antics, but before he could register an apology, Michael lifted his arm and splashed Adam in equal measure, albeit he used way more water and Adam ended up shaking some out of his eyes. 

“You’re dead,” Adam said as he spat some water out of his mouth, but he was grinning. “You’re not gonna get away with—”

Michael splashed him again before he could finish his sentence.

“Alright, that’s it—”

Adam leapt at Michael and hooked onto his back, trying to drag him down under the water and dunk him, but the archangel was bigger and stronger than Adam, even without his powers. Michael stood there laughing at Adam’s desperate attempts to dunk him and threw him off fairly easily. 

Michael was still grinning wide when Adam resurfaced. “You’re right. This makes me a lot happier.”

Adam wiped more water from his eyes. “Glad I could help with that.”

Still smiling a little, Michael reached out and smoothed some of Adam’s dripping wet hair away from his eyes. Adam, feeling his cheeks turning a little pink, looked away quickly, hoping Michael didn’t notice, and the two of them continued bathing and washing themselves as though nothing had happened.

\---

Night was starting to fall when Michael and Adam first heard the signs of something in the woods other than the animals. The steady sound of footfalls approached from their right, away from the river. Michael threw a hand out to his side to catch Adam in the chest and stop him. 

“I hear something,” the archangel said.

“Same,” Adam replied, eyes darting around as he tried to peer through the shadowed trees. “Think we’re being followed?”

“Could just be more fugitives,” Michael posed as a possibility. “But I doubt it. That’s too coincidental.” 

They stood side-by-side and continued to silence to the crackling of twigs and dry leaves, hoping against hope that maybe it was just a deer or something, but Adam could distinctly hear the sound of only two feet, not four, and they were heading in their direction.

“Should we—”

Adam had been about to ask if they should hide when Michael grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to the side, towards a leaf-heavy bush where they crouched down and waited with bated breath. 

The footsteps were close now, too close for comfort, yet Adam still couldn’t see any physical signs of whoever was approaching. The louder the steps became, the closer to Michael Adam pressed himself until he was pretty sure if Michael had been a normal human, he’d be hurting the other man. But, as it was, Michael was _not_ a normal human, despite his lack of powers, and Adam was at least mildly comforted by the thought. 

After what felt like hours, a shadowy figure broke through a line of trees ahead of them and stopped. Because of the dim lighting in the failing sunlight, Adam couldn’t see a face or any distinguishing features, but the figure looked to be a man of average height and slightly muscular build. Adam’s imagination felt like it was flying away from him because he could’ve sworn the man looked right at him through the bush, but that was crazy...wasn’t it?

Not so.

“I see you,” the man said, his voice cracking through the tense silence like a thunderclap. “Both of you. Curling up in the dark like rodents.”

Next to him, Adam could feel Michael stiffen his muscles. They didn’t have any weapons on them, nor were Michael’s powers anywhere near usable capacity. They could run, but how far would they get before they were caught in the dark? 

“You got pretty far, I’ll admit,” the man continued as though impressed with their resolve. “The big boss didn’t think it was worth the effort sending us all the way out here to look for you, but I insisted, and here we are now.”

“Who are you?” Michael snapped. 

“What, no handshake first? No hug?”

“Who. Are. You.”

The shadow figure sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect a warm welcome, but damn, you could at least play along.” He straightened up when that didn’t earn another response from Michael. “Marou. At your service. Well, not really _your_ service. Lucifer’s.”

Adam tried to press himself closer to the ground as though hoping the dirt would swallow him up and hide him. 

Marou stepped into an orange beam of sunlight and at last they could see his face: handsome, clean-cut, with a chiseled jaw and defined cheekbones. Adam didn’t recognize him, but with a quick glance at Michael, he could see that he did. 

“Good to see you again, Michael,” Marou commented. “Been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“Eons,” Michael agreed, slowly getting to his feet. “I’d long wondered if the Fall killed you.”

Marou chuckled. “You keep quiet for a couple thousand years and everyone thinks you’re dead, huh?” He nudged his head towards the bush where Adam remained hidden. “Who’s your baggage?”

“None of your business.”

“Curl your wings back, Stuffy. I already know it’s the Winchester bastard. Didn’t take very long for us to figure out what happened and where you’d both gone.” Marou smiled, showing his white teeth, and he looked feral. “That barmaid and her coworker sang like canaries once we got a couple demons inside ‘em and rifled through their memories.”

Adam curled his fingers into the dirt, trying not to yell, and shut his eyes tightly. 

“Watch your tongue,” Michael snapped. “Those were friends.”

“Oh? My condolences then.” Marou brought his wrist up and looked at a gold watch that dangled from it. “Well, look at that. Time to bring you both back to the Grove. You—” Marou pointed at Michael, “—are going straight to your brother. Your has-been vessel will probably hang from the bridge after this. Lucifer loves his Winchesters, but this one’s never been part of the deal.”

“You’re not taking either of us without a fight,” Michael said matter-of-factly. Adam looked up at him in disbelief. What would they fight with? Sticks? 

Marou seemed to find that funny too, because he threw his head back and laughed. “We all know you’re powerless, Michael. You don’t have to puff yourself up like a blowfish.”

“Hand to hand,” Michael demanded. “No powers from me, no demon assistance from you.”

“Fight like a maggot?”

“Fight like a human.”

With that said, Michael launched himself at Marou and caught him in the stomach. They both tumbled to the ground amid a cloud of dirt, and Adam finally leapt to his feet. He wanted to help, and watched as the two men rolled back to their feet and circled each other, each one waiting for the other to strike first. 

Like a green light went off, they both attacked at the same time. Fists flew and arms blocked the other’s blows. Adam couldn’t keep up with who was landing more hits, and the pained grunting noises from both of them made him back away slowly, not wanting to get caught up in the melee. 

When Adam took another step back, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him off the ground to carry him away. Immediately Adam started flailing his arms and legs, screaming as he did so, trying to hit any part of the stranger that he could, when:

“Adam, calm the fuck down, it’s me!”

“... _Dean?_ ”


	6. Chapter 6

“Dean?”

“The one and only.” Dean Winchester’s voice was gruff in Adam’s ear. “Come on, we’re getting you out of here.”

“We—? No, wait, _wait!_ ” Adam shouted, kicking Dean in the shin. “Not without Michael!”

“Cas can come back to help him, now come on.”

“NO!” Adam reared back and slammed the back of his head into Dean’s face. 

He heard something crack but didn’t bother looking to see what he’d damaged before he rushed towards Michael and Marou’s fight. He knew this was probably the single dumbest thing he could attempt, but he didn’t care. He’d rather get caught up in this fight with Michael than go anywhere with Dean Winchester, and it was this truth that propelled Adam to wrap an arm around Marou’s neck from behind to strangle him. 

The man immediately grabbed at Adam’s arm with his nails, trying to rip the boy off of him, but Adam gritted his teeth and held on tight. He didn’t know how to kill a fallen angel – did they die like normal humans, or did they require an angel blade still – but regardless, Marou was in enough pain to land on his knees, still trying to through Adam off his back. 

The sound of more footsteps – demons, maybe – was the only thing that drew Adam’s attention away from the task at hand. 

“Adam, we have to go. There’s more,” Michael demanded, tugging at Adam’s shoulder to pry him off Marou’s neck. “Adam, please.”

“Just grab him.” It was Dean, speaking from somewhere behind Adam. “We don’t have time.”

Adam gave Marou’s neck one final squeeze before letting go. The man immediately fell forward on his hands, choking and coughing, his lungs seeking air. Adam took the distraction as a chance to get to his feet and run as he heard Michael and Dean join him. 

They followed the river still, leaping over uneven patches of ground, trying to chase the setting sun and the last rays of daylight before night fell. Behind them, the sounds of more people followed, and Adam could tell that they, too, were running. 

“Where are we going?” Michael asked, his breathing labored with running. 

“Just a little further” was Dean’s response, which didn’t clear up any of Adam’s concerns, but running endlessly was better than being caught and killed, so he went with it. 

After another minute of running, Dean passed Adam in the front and veered away from the river sharply. Adam and Michael followed as he led them to a tree wide enough to be at least a studio apartment-sized room. The roots were partially above ground, curling up and twisting back around to dig into the dirt where they grew. Dean effortlessly slid underneath the roots and vanished into the darkness below. Without question, Adam and Michael followed. Surprisingly, the three of them all fit under the roots without any issue, completely shielded.

They waited with bated breath until they heard the sounds of the footsteps running closer, getting nearer...then completely passing them and continuing on into the forest, now blanketed with nightfall. Adam had one hand over his mouth to muffle his labored breathing, just in case, and it was only after they hid there in total silence for another five minutes that he dared to uncover it and breathe normally. 

“That was a close one,” Dean whispered from somewhere to Adam’s left. “You guys almost had it.”

Adam turned in the darkness and shoved him. 

“The fuck was that for?” Dean snapped.

“ _Where the hell have you been?_ ” Adam hissed angrily. “For six fucking months you and Sam were MIA and now you just show up out of _nowhere_ playing hero? The hell is that about?”

He shoved Dean against just for good measure.

“Stop hitting me!”

“Where were you?” Adam asked again, still shouting.

Michael, on his right, wound an arm around Adam’s waist and pulled him away from Dean. “Adam, please. You need to be quiet, just in case.”

“Not until this asshole explains himself,” Adam snapped, but he’d lowered his voice anyway. 

And Dean explained. He waited until Adam was calm enough to absorb everything, but in the end, his older brother explained how he had been essentially kept prisoner under Lucifer’s watch, unable to leave the compound or do anything against him. Lucifer was still wearing Sam as a vessel, and try as Dean might to bring his brother back from the depths of his own mind, he could never seem to reach him. Sam was gone, and Lucifer had Dean and the rest of the world under his boot heel. 

The only reason Dean had managed to escape was because Lucifer had been distracted by the news that Michael had been in town. He’d slipped away, unnoticed, while Lucifer rallied the demons and Marou for a search party in the woods, and he’d managed to track Adam and Michael’s movements through the woods in time to reach them just as Marou did. 

“I knew I had to get to you guys before they did, help you if I could,” Dean said as he finished his story. “They’re _pissed_ back at the Grove, that they had Michael right under their noses and he slipped away like that.”

The three of them were sitting cross-legged outside the tree now, under the cover of darkness, talking in hushed tones and keeping their ears open for any signs of unwelcome life. 

Adam had his elbows on his knees and was absorbing Dean’s tale quietly, while Michael asked, “What were you planning to do if you found us first?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno,” he admitted. “I hadn’t thought of a plan. I just knew I had to try and get to you before they did.”

“You were close. And you did help,” Michael offered.

Dean shifted in his seat. “Yeah, guess I did.”

Adam recognized how unusual this situation was, considering Dean was Michael’s true vessel, the original Winchester that was supposed to give consent. But Michael didn’t look as though he expected Dean to say anything about it, and if Adam was going to be honest, he didn’t think Michael would bring up the subject unless prompted. 

It was then, in thinking of Dean and his placement in the universe, that something clicked in Adam’s head. All the puzzle pieces began falling into place one after another, and before he knew it, an idea formed. It wasn’t the best idea, and it certainly wasn’t the easiest or his first choice, but it was all they had to go on, the only way to fix this mess. And, after all, isn't that what Adam had always wanted? To help. To make a difference. To fight back. And now, he had a way. He _knew_ what he could do. He just needed to tell someone.

Adam cleared his throat. “Michael, I need to talk to you. Alone.”

It took only one second after hearing the serious tone in Adam’s voice for Dean to get up and dust off his jeans, muttering something about ‘looking for firewood,’ before he melted into the forest. 

Before Michael could say anything, Adam said, “You need me as your vessel.”

There was a beat of shocked silence before he got a response.

“What?” Michael hissed, stunned. “Are you crazy? I’m not taking you as my vessel again. I never wanted that.”

“It’s the only way to fix everything. Don’t you get that? Lucifer’s sitting pretty on his throne because he’s got Sam. He’s got his vessel. You’re just using some random empty body. It’s no wonder you can’t get your powers back if you’re not even in a proper suit.” Adam shifted so he could hug his knees to his chest. “I’m your vessel. Not your one hundred percent true vessel, but...I’ve already served you once, by your own choice. You chose me over Dean, and that’s gotta mean something. Maybe if I’m your vessel again, you’ll...restore to full power or something.”

Adam could see even in the darkness that Michael was frowning. “There’s no guarantee that would work.”

“But it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

“Adam, once you say yes, no matter what does or doesn’t happen, you can’t change it. I can never leave your body – not unless Dean gives consent. You’ll spend the rest of your life trapped inside your own mind again.” Michael shuffled on the ground to move closer to him. “I know you don’t want that.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, does it?” Adam asked. “In the grand scheme of things, with the world being the way it is, my wants don’t matter. What matters is fixing this goddamn mess.”

“Don’t say that.” At first Adam thought Michael was referring to his use of the word ‘goddamn,’ but then Michael clarified: “Don’t say your happiness and desires don’t matter. They _do_ matter.”

“Are you refusing my consent?” Adam asked in disbelief.

“I’m refusing to let you do this to yourself _again!_ You know the pain of being a vessel. Why put yourself through that horror again?”

Adam looked out at the forest stretching out in front of him, trying to articulate a proper answer. So many things were running through his mind, so many variations of what he could say and so many excuses for his choice, but in the end, it all came down to the same basic ideal:

“Because I want to make a difference. I want to help fix everything.” He gazed off into the forest again and his lips quirked into a small smile. “It _is_ the Devil, right? So we gotta stop him.”

Michael remained silent at that, but put an arm around Adam’s shoulders in comfort. Adam turned his head to look at him, the archangel whose arm was draped around him, and smiled a little sadly. Just from that one arm motion, he knew Michael had given in. They were going to do this. 

“Should we tell Dean?” Michael asked. His chest rumbled as he spoke and Adam shivered.

“What do _you_ think?” 

“He’s _your_ brother, not mine.”

Adam had to resist letting out a derisive snort. “He’s hardly my brother.”

“So we’re not telling him?”

“I don’t owe him anything.” 

Adam said it with such finality that Michael simply nodded and didn’t say anything more about the topic. “When would you like to, um...do it?”

Adam took a moment to think. “Soon. Maybe even before Dean gets back.”

“So, very soon.”

“Yeah.” A pause. “I just wanna get it over with.”

“I understand.”

To Adam’s mild surprise, Michael leaned forward and kissed his temple, his lips soft and warm. Adam closed his eyes and savored the moment before Michael pulled away.

“What was that for?” Adam asked.

“A goodbye kiss.”

Adam caught Michael’s eye in the darkness. “No offense, but that was a pretty shitty goodbye kiss.”

Adam leaned in fearlessly and caught Michael’s lips with his own, kissing him fully and wholly, putting his entire being behind the action itself. Michael stiffened in surprise but when Adam wrapped his hand around the back of the archangel’s neck, he finally relaxed into it too. 

They kissed. They kissed for what they never had, what they hoped they could’ve had, and what they had right then and there. They kissed away all the stupid arguments between them, all the bad things said in the wrong moments, and all the things they wished they could fix. They kissed in the hopes of a better world to come, and of a better world to hope for. 

When they both finally surfaced, Adam found himself on his back with Michael above him, their arms wound around each other tightly, legs tangled together. Dean still hadn’t returned, much to Adam’s relief, and so they spent a few more precious seconds simply searching each other’s faces in the darkness, tracing the shadowed lines of each other’s features. 

After a lengthy moment of content silence, Adam spoke first: “We should do it soon, before Dean comes back.”

He could feel Michael’s hesitation as the archangel sighed, his breath ruffling Adam’s hair gently. “I suppose we should.” Michael leaned down to trace Adam’s cheekbone with his lips. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“I want this.”

“We can go through with your idea,” Michael continued to plead. “Stay in the woods together. Ignore civilization.”

“We can’t run forever.”

“...I suppose not.”

Michael pushed himself off the ground and stood up, extending a hand to Adam, which he took gratefully and used to pull himself up. They stood facing each other, not touching, just standing there waiting for the inevitable. 

Before Michael did anything, Adam asked: “Do you have a plan?” At the curious quirk of Michael’s eyebrow he amended, “I mean, are you gonna storm the castle and take Lucifer by surprise? Duke it out right away? Or are you gonna wait some more, organize a rebellion maybe?”

Michael nibbled on his bottom lip and looked off to the side, clearly in thought. Adam stood patiently, not wanting to rush him, but in the back of his mind he was praying that Dean didn’t arrive at this very moment and get suspicious. 

At long last, Michael said, “I’ll rewind time.”

Adam did a mental double take. “You’ll — sorry, you’ll _what?_ ”

“So much damage to the world has been done already, Adam. It’ll be much easier rewinding back to a time when it wasn’t broken than trying to glue the pieces back together.”

“How far back? Like...beginning of time?”

Michael shook his head. “No, no, of course not. I don’t want to undo _everything_.” He paused. “I was thinking of May 2010.”

“Why?”

“That was when Lucifer and I met in Stull Cemetery for the initial fight.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Adam finally weighed the full consequences of what Michael was suggesting. “So you’re just gonna...go back and fight again? What if nothing changes?”

“Something _will_ change. I can feel it.” Michael’s eyes were blazing in the darkness with optimism. “Once you’ve refabricated time, nothing ever happens the same way twice. Maybe it’ll rain that day. Maybe the time jump will confuse Lucifer enough for me to gain the upper hand.”

Adam could tell there would be no arguing with Michael while he was in this state. He was convinced, truly and wholly, that something would change for the better, that he’d win this time around. 

And so Adam conceded. They would meet halfway, each bringing something important to the table: Adam offering himself as a vessel, Michael offering the ultimate battle plan. 

Michael reached out and laced his fingers with Adam’s, giving his hand a small squeeze before concluding, “And maybe we’ll find a way. For this.” He squeezed Adam’s hand again and Adam finally felt a little hope blossoming in his chest, warming him from the inside. 

After a moment of standing there, Michael gently commanded: “Close your eyes, Adam.”

Adam refused and kept his eyes open, even as Michael began to shine through his temporary vessel in preparation to make his way into Adam’s, even as Michael’s true form itself emerged from its human confines.

He was beautiful.


	7. Chapter 7

Time spun backwards. Everything un-fabricated and re-fabricated in perfect order. The compounds vanished and peoples’ minds were wiped until it was May 2010 once more, the day when Michael and Lucifer first faced off in Stull Cemetery under the masks of Adam Milligan and Sam Winchester.

Michael was right: dipping his hand in time rearranged everything so that this time, Dean Winchester made it to the cemetery. He drove up in his precious Chevy Impala and intervened, interrupting the biggest showdown of the millennium. 

It happened, as we know it today. The ground opened up. Dean Winchester was left with Castiel and Bobby Singer to pick up the pieces. And meanwhile, two archangels and two human souls burned.

\---

_Adam? ...Adam, can you hear me?_

...

_Adam, where are you? Please, answer me!_

**Michael. It's okay. I’m here.**

END


End file.
